


Dalliance in Leisure

by nimiumcaelo



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald
Genre: Hydroplane, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Kissing, Kissing On a Boat, M/M, Nick thinks too much, POV First Person, POV Nick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 20:10:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13666416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimiumcaelo/pseuds/nimiumcaelo
Summary: I am not inebriated and thus have no excuse if this were to go wrong. The boat’s motion is now so slow that no one in their right mind would believe I had lost my balance. He would know - ofcoursehe would know. But do I really mind?





	Dalliance in Leisure

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my old tumblr [here](https://teaandfeelings.tumblr.com/post/158566110351/natsby-01).

Because it is summer and because it is a remarkably clement day in summer, the sun is shining and kissing our skin as we head out. It is not yet ten o’clock and there are only two clouds in the sky, drifting like we are through a great expanse of blue. Gatsby is standing behind the wheel and I am seated on the plush bench behind him. Water freckles on my skin as we skip across the waves.

I brought a hat but it isn’t doing me much good as it’s continually fluttering off my head in the breeze. Gatsby is making light small-talk that is almost certainly untrue, though I do not mind so much as long as he keeps talking.

His voice is very melodic and every two-or-three sentences he turns around and looks at me with an expression on his face that could outshine the sun. Anyone who knows anything could tell you that he’s charming - I can tell you that as well. I can’t remember the last time I felt so unconcerned with all the pressures of society. Nothing matters when he smiles at me.

If we were closer acquainted, I could make a pretense of some sort about a shared interest and work my way around to standing next to him - close to him - nearly pressing against his tanned skin. Our arms might graze on accident and no one could say if it was merely the boat’s rocking movements or something else.

Perhaps I could tell him his hair was mussed, if we were very close, and fix it for him. I could slip my fingers into his golden hair and flip it back to the correct side of his head. Perhaps I could even slip an arm around his shoulders - place a hand on his back, or, if I was feeling exceptionally daring, his waist. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind, perhaps he would welcome the show of affection. Perhaps he would even reciprocate by putting his arm around me and pulling me close. Perhaps I could lean into him and put my head against his shoulder when the boat rocked.

The boat is slowing now. He turns around, leaning back with his hands on the console. There is a small canopy over the bench where I sit, so it would only - should only - make sense for him to sit there. He shoves himself forward and sits next to me. I keep myself to one side, but he sits in such a way that our legs brush against each other. He is warm from the sun.

He isn’t talking anymore. Neither am I. I slowly turn to look at him. His hair, so golden in the sun, is slightly dulled in the shade. There is no one out here. No one to protest - no one besides him. Would he protest? Would he mind if I were to - surely he’s had such advances before. Perhaps he would even encourage it.

I am not inebriated and thus have no excuse if this were to go wrong. The boat’s motion is now so slow that no one in their right mind would believe I had lost my balance. He would know - _of course_  he would know. But do I really mind? While my common sense is screaming at me to stop this immediately, a small voice whispers that I don’t have anything to lose. If Gatsby no longer wishes to associate with me then so be it. I don’t believe he could arrest me because I could just as easily refute the claim. There are no witnesses, and while he is very wealthy and able to manipulate the law there are limits even for him.

He takes a deep breath, smiling slightly. I shift slightly away and he shifts slightly closer. That’s it. I look him in the eye - he knows what we’re doing. Holding quite still and very uncertain, I lean a little closer to him. He doesn’t move away. My heart is marching an army forwards and my breath is a little ragged. I can smell his cologne.

I place my hand on his shoulder, studying him to see if he flinches away. He doesn’t. I lean in and press a quick kiss to his lips. It’s over so quickly that I wouldn’t think it happened if not for the blush on my face and the very brief surprised expression on his. I pull away, embarrassed. After several seconds of silence, he speaks.

“We don’t - I won’t - uh…” This is the first time I’ve seen him tongue-tied.

“It’s - I’m sorry. I was - wrong to do that. Won’t happen again.”

My face is red, and I stare pointedly at the floor. My lips are still tingling. He is still warm beside me. I risk a glance at him. He’s staring off into space and picking lightly at his lip. My leg twitches and bumps ever-so-slightly against his. He blinks and looks at me. His hand moves from his mouth to rest softly on my shoulder. I try to sense if he’s knows what he’s doing, but his face is unreadable. His fingers inch towards my neck. He leans in and kisses me, just ghosting his lips over mine and then pressing them together gently.

I feel conflicted about kissing back since I just said I wouldn’t, but my hesitancy dissolves when he sets his other hand on my waist. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him - he is just as warm as I imagined. My hands slip into his hair and I forget everything but the feeling of _him_.


End file.
